Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“And you.”
My throat thickens from the thought of having my life invaded. “Right. Another thing an annulment would do is erase the marriage from record like it never happened.” Sitting forward, he rests his arms on his legs, life returning to his eyes. “And we won’t need to involve attorneys.”
“This sounds like the best option. How do we make it happen?”
“I couldn’t agree more.” I readjust in the chair, biting my lip. I already know how he’s going to react, so I say it and hope for the best. “We’d have to appear in front of a judge together and make our appeal. Two options might apply to us in order to get the annulment granted. We need to figure out which one we’re going with and be on the same page.”
His brows pull together as he sits back again, looking so comfortable on my couch that I admire the trust in his eyes before I reveal the kicker. “You’re really building the suspense. What are they?”
“Fraud, which sounds tricky. It’s basically saying one of us defrauded the other into marriage.”
“No.” He glances away as the idea rolls around his expression. “That comes with legal issues tied to it, and if anyone ever got wind of it, it would ruin my career. What’s the other?”
I take a deep breath and rush the words out. “We never consummated the marriage.”
“Not a lie. This is our out.” Still staring at me, hope comes in the widening of his eyes. “We don’t have to prove it, do we?”
“No,” I reply with that image now mortifying me. “We just have to agree it never happened.”
“Easy,” he says, brushing his hands together like this issue is done and dusted. “We can’t have sex before we end the marriage, and we’re golden.”
Not a question, but a statement that leaves me narrowing my eyes to riddle through. Maybe it’s not a riddle at all. “You make it sound like we will right after.”
A shrug and a cocky smirk make themselves at home on his handsome face.
I’m not sure what to make of this, mainly because I’m not opposed to the idea. Sex is different from dating. Reason always sneaks in, though. “We didn’t have sex when we were married, so why would we do it when we’re not?” And why am I pondering this as if it’s a real possibility? An opportunity even?
“Never say never.”
Straightening my face, I lean in closer, and whisper, “Never, but I’ve always been ambitious.”
I swear a growl rumbles around his chest before he takes a deep breath. “So the no sex thing seems to be our only option. For now.”
“Forever. And yes, it’s the best option we have.” I weave my fingers together and hold my hands over my still full belly. “So when the judge asks us for the reason, we’ll agree you couldn’t perform your husbandly duties, and he’ll grant the annulment.”
Sitting forward again, he stares at me like I’m speaking another language. “What do you mean I couldn’t perform?”
“Yeah,” I say, hesitating. “That’s part of the appeal.”
“Doesn’t sound appealing to me at all.”
“No, but we must have a reason to annul, and for that specific option . . .” I use my hands to explain, but it’s my nerves, knowing I have to go into detail. “To use the not consummating the marriage excuse, we’ll need to go into why you haven’t made love to me. Why you can’t make love to me. It’s strictly performance-based, so you’ll swear that you have an incurable case of—”
“No fucking way.” The horror on his face speaks volumes over his actual words. He’s up and storming toward the kitchen. Turning, he paces to the sliding glass door, but the seven steps he takes to cover my apartment don’t appear to satisfy the turmoil. Stopping on the other side of the coffee table, he clenches his jaw. “There’s no fucking way I’m claiming I can’t perform my duties. I can perform on stage and in the bedroom just fine, sweetheart.”
“Prove it.”
What the—I can’t breathe until I realize I said that in my head. Oh my God. Thank goodness. I drop my head into my hands, needing a reprieve from the pressure cooker where we’re trapped. “There are no other solutions.”
“Except divorce,” he replies, defeat tainting his tone.
We’re here but apart. I hate feeling like this fight is between us instead of the situation we’re in. He’s been quiet for so long that I’m afraid to break the peace. I watch as he returns to the patio door to stare out like there’s more than cars to look at. He crosses his arms over his chest in quiet contemplation, his breathing finally evening out again.
What can I say that won’t upset him even more? But the silence is killing me. What is he thinking? I angle my body in his direction, and say, “I’m sorry.”